


fire spilling from your soul

by valety



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Courtship, Dragons, Falling In Love, Other, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7521052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valety/pseuds/valety
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Prince Asriel befriends a dragon, and something sort of kind of almost like a fairy tale ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fire spilling from your soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eristastic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eristastic/gifts).



> s-shrugs?? I don't really know what this is.....it's kind of experimental for me......I hope people are kind enough to overlook the many flaws it likely has 
> 
> warnings for references to past abuse and mutilation, a semi-graphic description of a past injury, and nongraphic references to offscreen deaths
> 
> (I promise that this fic is mostly lighthearted despite those warnings)

You rather resent the idea that as a monster, you ought to be capable of communication with _all_ monsters. After all, there are some that don’t even have mouths and you’re no good at any of the silent speeches. Unfortunately, you’re not just a monster—you’re the monster _prince,_ meaning you’re compelled to at least _try,_ especially when the humans have approached you about a dragon terrorizing their villages.

Nobody seems to be particularly concerned about whether or not you actually know what to _do_ about the dragon.

Your parents would know what to do, you think miserably. But of course your parents aren’t here right now—you’d been sent to the human court alone, ostensibly on a goodwill mission. It’s not like anyone had been _expecting_ something of this sort, and it’s not like you can ignore all these reports of dragon activity, either, not when there are lives at stake. Besides: you are, in theory, a responsible adult, one more than capable of coping with an emergency of this sort, whether you like it or not. There’s no need to wait for mommy and daddy to swoop in and fix it for you, not when you can deal with it yourself.

You’re still not entirely sure what the humans are expecting you to do, though. Before sending you off, they’d outfitted you with armour and a sword and an escort of their (supposedly) finest knights. But why would they elect a candidate based on whoever had the best odds of speaking with the beast if they meant for you to kill it?

Perhaps the humans don’t know what you’re meant to do either. Perhaps whether you’re to fight or to show mercy will come down to the moment of the encounter itself. A worrying thought. If left to your own devices, then you will almost definitely choose the wrong path.

Although you’d initially set out on horseback, you’re forced to make the latter half of your journey on foot. The horses had refused to ride any further after a certain point, which your company had attributed to their sensing of the dragon’s presence.

“Is that what that is?” you’d asked, curious. “There’s a thick wall of magic up ahead, but not one I’d have thought of as draconic. It feels…diluted, somehow.”

The humans had exchanged funny looks with one another when you said this, and you made a mental note to refrain from commenting on magic in the future. It’s easy to forget sometimes that most humans can’t sense it, what with all their talk of luck and superstition. You wouldn’t want to alienate them by unnerving them too much; after all, you’re meant to be their ally.

You spend the rest of the journey doing your best to be non-threatening. Friendly and polite, obliging and not too talkative. But apparently it doesn’t work, because you still wake up one morning in an utterly deserted camp.

“Fuck,” you say, because your parents aren’t here to scold you for not acting like a prince and _you’ll swear if you want to, dammit._

You pack up your supplies the best that you can. No matter that you’ve been left alone on the dragon’s mountain like a living sacrifice; you still have a duty to the people, to your parents, to _yourself._ No matter that you have no plan of action or that your legs are trembling as you ascend. No matter that you think that you may want to turn around and tear apart those cowards who abandoned you. If there’s anything that you can do, then you want to try and _do_ it _,_ to ensure that nobody innocent gets hurt unnecessarily.

It’s early still. Dawn stretches tentatively over the horizon, colouring the sky with streaks of gold and rose, and the breeze is cool, carrying with it traces of the coming spring. It’s going to be a beautiful day, you think. If you’re to be devoured, then you couldn’t possibly have chosen a finer day for it to happen on.

Small blessings.

As you make your way towards the peak, you try and imagine what the dragon will look like. The dragons you’ve seen yourself have all been tiny things; babies and half-bloods, nothing particularly intimidating. Certainly nothing capable of razing villages the way this one supposedly has. If this one’s an adult—and a ferocious one at that—then it will certainly be quite the sight, but you’re not sure how well you can prepare yourself when you know so little about what you’ll be fighting. The best you can envision is a great, towering lizard with eyes like jewels, but that’s only because that’s how you’ve always seen dragons described in books. You have no idea what it actually means to have jewel-eyes. None of the dragons you’ve known personally have had them, at any rate.

After quite some time, you finally reach the wall of magic you’d been sensing. You hesitate to approach it, worrying vaguely about the possibility of being reduced to dust the moment you make contact, but nothing about it repels you and you end up passing through as easily as one might slip through fog.

It’s not long afterwards that you manage to pinpoint your dragon—or at the very least, the likely source of quite a few recent disturbances.

You follow a thread of magic to the mouth of an enormous cave, from which you can sense an enormous, blazing mass of energy. You gulp.

The cave is surrounded by scorched evergreens, but maybe that’s just a coincidence.

You’re a monster too, you remind yourself. It’s possible that all you’ll have to do is ask politely for the dragon to knock it off and they’ll oblige without a fuss. Alternatively, you’ll have to fight, but you can use magic too, and you _are_ a boss monster, so you’d like to think your odds of survival are fairly good.

Provided the dragon doesn’t simply choose to swallow you whole, that is.

You gulp a second time.

Then, you cup your hands around your mouth and bellow, _“Hello?”_

There’s no reply.

“I’d like a word, please!”

Still silence.

You take a deep breath and try once more, this time calling out, “I need you to stop destroying villages!”

There’s an enormous rumbling, as though the earth itself has begun to shudder in anticipation. Your heart begins to knock rather violently against your ribcage, but you refuse to cower; you will do your parents proud and stand your ground.

A pair of eyes appear, and you realize instantly that everything you’ve ever read was wrong, because there is, in fact, nothing remotely jewel-like about a dragon’s eyes—jewels are far too cold, and this beast’s eyes are fire, living fire, blazing with such intensity that you feel as though you may burn just from its gaze.

In a low, raspy growl of a voice, a sound torn from the bowels of the earth itself, the dragon says, “They deserved it.”

Moving slowly, deliberately—almost gracefully, in fact, like an overgrown cat—the dragon emerges from its cave, revealing its long, slender body and the gleaming red of its scales. It beats its wings, once, twice, and the gust that it creates is powerful enough to almost knock you over.

“It wasn’t _villages,_ plural, anyway,” the dragon continues. “It was _village,_ singular, and it was very few select homes, too. Furthermore, who are _you_ to lecture me on my affairs?”

“Um,” you say, because you appear to have temporarily lost the power of speech. But then the dragon gives a snort of impatience and you manage to collect yourself enough to say, “I’m Asriel Dreemurr, prince of monsters.”

Another snort, but this time of derision. “ _Prince of monsters?_ Well, I suppose that’s how you got past my barrier, then.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, curious despite yourself.

“It repels blood,” the beast replies. You can practically hear the roll of its eyes, despite it not actually doing so, apparently too dignified to sink to such immaturity. “It keeps humans and wild animals away. I hadn’t thought to defend myself against monsters, but at least you aren’t _human.”_

And then the dragon turns around, as though preparing to skulk back into its cave.

“W-wait!” you cry, and the dragon pauses, glancing back at you disdainfully. “Will you s-stop destroying villages?”

The dragon narrows its eyes, and then suddenly it’s in front of you and you’re drowning in the fire of its gaze. You’re too paralyzed with sudden terror to think to flinch or scream, even as it slowly bares its knife-like teeth in a grim caricature of a smile.

“Do you expect me to answer to _you?”_ the dragon hisses. “Perhaps I should simply eat you now, to punish you for your arrogance. What do you think of that?”

“Y-you shouldn’t,” you manage to choke out, placing a hand on the hilt of your sword. You really are a fool—how had you not thought to draw it sooner? “B-because…”

“Oh!”

And suddenly, the dragon’s eyes are off of you, instead falling on your sword. In an entirely different tone of voice, the beast asks, “Is that an estoc?”

“Um,” you say.

“Not bad, not bad,” the dragon says appreciatively, flicking its tail. “Most of the knights who come after me do so with the biggest, scariest swords that they can find, but something built for thrusting like this has a far better chance of piercing my scales than, say, a claymore. And it seems to be well-crafted, too—but what else can you expect from a prince?”

It laughs. At least, you _think_ it does. The sound is an odd one, like the crackling of dry wood.

But then it sighs.

“It certainly is beautiful,” the dragon says with a note of longing in its voice. Whereas before you could only see the beast’s deadly intelligence in its eyes, you can now see the shocking depths of its desire. For a…sword? “It’s been a while since I’ve seen a blade this delicate. It’s wasted on you, really. I can see the way you’re trembling. You’d never be able to—”

“Do you want it?” you ask.

The dragon immediately falls silent.

For a moment, all you can hear is the steady rumble of its breathing, and you wonder if perhaps you made a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” the dragon says at last. “What did you just say?”

“Do you want it?” you repeat, feeling emboldened by its hesitation. Had the beast been going to devour you, surely it would have done so already. It must be intrigued—or at the very least amused—by your offer, and any avenue that buys you time is one you’re willing to pursue. “The sword, I mean. You’re right, it’s wasted on me. If you like swords so much, then maybe _you_ should be the one to keep it.”

The dragon lowers its head so that it can glare at you levelly, narrowing its crimson eyes and sharply flapping its wings.  “You would throw away your only weapon?” it demands.

“It’s not like I know how to use it properly,” you say with a shrug, feigning carelessness as best as you can despite your quaking knees. “But in exchange, you must—”

“Yes _,_ anything!” the dragon interrupts. “Anything you say, now _give me the sword!”_

You drop the sword, and the dragon vanishes.

At least, it appears to. You can feel its power ripping through its massive body, and then the air is shimmering and it seems to break apart, like a reflection scattering after a pebble has been tossed into a pond. One moment the dragon’s all that you can see, but the next, the dragon’s vanished, having been replaced by a…

Human.

A human. Small and thin, with a long, narrow face and short, matted hair that gleams almost scarlet in the sunlight, wearing tattered grey robes that seem to have materialized from the smoke they had been breathing mere moments ago. Had their eyes not been so red, you might have been utterly baffled, but instead you manage to choke out, “Weren’t you a dragon before?”

The dragon—or human?—gives an indifferent sniff as they bend to collect your sword. Their eyes roam over it greedily and they lick their lips as they run a finger down its blade. Only then do they respond.

“I never said I was a dragon,” they say coolly.

“But you _were!”_

They roll their eyes. “Only _sometimes,_ idiot. Sometimes I’m a human. Sometimes I’m both, and sometimes I’m neither. Now, what were you saying? What do I have to do to keep this beauty?”

“Oh,” you say, and you force yourself to straighten up, trying to regain your composure as best as you can. It’s actually not very difficult; whereas the dragon’s size had been intimidating, the human is actually much shorter than you, and this somehow seems to cast your prior interactions in a different light. “You can’t attack any more villages, okay?”

They frown at that, hugging the sword against their chest as though expecting you to try and take it back if they don’t agree. “I told you,” they say, voice terse. “The _village,_ singular, that I attacked _deserved_ it. And it was only certain people, you know. I had no intention of attacking anybody else, least of all anybody innocent, from the beginning.”

“Well, good,” you say. You finally allow yourself to relax. “I’ll just be going, then.”

Instantly their gaze snap back up, and then those unsettling red eyes are locked on you. “You can’t go,” they say with a stern frown. “You gave me a gift. I must repay you. I refuse to be beholden to anyone.”

“You can repay me by not killing anybody,” you suggest.

“But I wasn’t _going_ to! Come with me,” they say, and then suddenly their fingers—long and thin, almost bony—are locked around your wrist and they’re tugging you towards the cave.

The cave itself is large and dark, with your footsteps echoing in such a way that it gives the impression of being a vast empty space, but then the dragon snaps their fingers and the whole place comes alive. Lamps and candles roar to life, illuminating a shockingly tidy cavern that better resembles an alchemist’s workshop than it does a dragon’s den. You’d entered expecting to find a bed of gold, but instead you can see that the walls are lined with bookshelves and luxurious looking furniture. Every available surface bears a pile of curiosities; compasses and vials and dried flowers and scrolls. In one corner there are piles and piles of soft-looking cushions and thick woollen blankets, and in the other stands more swords than you could ever hope to count, meticulously arranged according to shape and size.

“This is my hoard,” the dragon says, spreading their arms wide with a proud smile. “Choose something, anything! Take it with you, and we’ll be even. Not the swords, though—the swords are special.”

“Isn’t _everything_ in a dragon’s hoard special?” you ask.

“My hoard is knowledge, not material goods,” the dragon replies. “I gather knowledge of the world around me to make up for so rarely venturing out into it, but I don’t mind sharing that knowledge with another who’ll appreciate it. It’s not as though lending you a book somehow negates my having read it. Don’t touch the swords, though,” they quickly add. “I’m serious. The swords are my _second_ hoard. I’ll kill you if you try and take one.”

You allow yourself a moment to gape about the cavern, for their collection truly is impressive, even if it seems to have no rhyme or reason to it. But then you have to swallow down your questions—what’s this, what’s that _,_ how long did it take you to get all of this together?—and say, “I can’t.”

Their smile falls, instantly morphing into a scowl. “Why not?” they demand. Had they still possessed a tail, you imagine that it would be flicking dangerously right now.

“I can’t,” you repeat apologetically. “You have so much stuff—it would take me ages to go through everything. And I don’t really _want_ anything, anyway. But it’s fine, I swear! You keep the sword in exchange for leaving humans alone, and I—”

Their scowl darkens. You shut your mouth. “But I would have stayed away from humans _anyway,”_ the dragon says, crossing their arms and looking almost childishly petulant. “I hate humans! You think I’d torment them for fun when I could spend my life avoiding them instead? Besides, there has to be _something…”_

 _Oh no,_ you think, alarmed. Their pouting is actually kind of cute.

You’ve probably been alone too long.

“…maybe you can just fly me back down the mountain?” you venture. “It would save me a trip.”

“I was going to do that _anyway!”_ the dragon snaps, shooting you another glare. “I’m not so rude that I’d send you off alone, you know!”

“Weren’t you going to eat me, thought”

For a moment they look almost flustered, but then they toss their head and sniff; a show of pride. “Don’t be ridiculous,” they retort. “You should’ve known I didn’t mean it. I just wanted to scare you a little.”

“Well, it worked,” you confess, and their entire face lights up.

“Did it _really?”_ they ask, and oh no, oh _no,_ they really _are_ kind of cute. Deep breaths; get it together, Asriel.

“What’s your name?” you ask, which is probably the exact opposite of the kind of thing you should be asking when trying _not_ to feel intrigued by a sword-hoarding dragon who’s apparently destroyed a village, singular.

The dragon frowns, looking for a moment as though they don’t intend to answer. But then they sigh—heavily, as if to emphasize just how little they want to answer you—and say, “Chara. For _Beta Canum Venaticorum.”_

“Chara, huh?” you say, pretending that you know what those other words mean. Chara. Chara. “That’s a nice name. My name is…”

“Asriel Dreemurr, prince of monsters,” Chara interrupts. “You told me that already, Your Highness.”

Your face grows hot. “Oh. Sorry.”

Chara doesn’t look at all annoyed by your fumbling, however. Instead, they’re smiling faintly, as though amused by you. Tapping their finger against their chin, they say, “You know—”

You never find out what they were going to say, because they fall silent as the sound of approaching footsteps fills the cave.

 _“Frisk!”_ they cry, dropping the sword to the ground with a clatter. They take off running. “I told you to stay hidden! What are you doing?”

It hadn’t occurred to you that there would be anybody else here, and you follow them without a thought, too surprised to even wonder if you ought to bring the sword with you or if perhaps you’d been too quick to judge them harmless.

 _Harmless?_ you scoff internally, _they’ve_ killed _people, they can’t be_ —

But then your train of thought comes stuttering to a halt, because when you reach them, they’re locked in what appears to be the most intense one-sided conversation that you’ve ever seen.

Yet it’s not one-sided at all, you realize. They’re speaking with a human, one even smaller than they are; one with brown skin and heavy, straight black hair. Although the human doesn’t open their mouth, their hands are flying in what you assume must be a form of human silent speech, given how Chara is responding.

“No, I don’t,” they’re saying, looking almost flustered. “It’s not _like_ that! Not everything is about—Asriel!”  

Both Chara and the human lift their heads to look at you. The human smiles, giving a slight wave that you return without thinking, but then Chara steps in front of them protectively.

So they’re not a captive, then, you think, feeling inexplicably relieved.

“You’re not taking Frisk back,” Chara says, voice colder than you’d have thought them capable of.

“Their name is Frisk?” you ask, and the human sticks their head out from behind Chara’s back to nod at you.  

“Yes, and you can’t have them,” Chara says in a voice like ice. “Furthermore, you can— _ow._ Frisk don’t _do_ that.”

They whirl around, presumably to glare at Frisk, and yet another seemingly one-sided argument erupts.

“No. I don’t want to,” they say in response to Frisk’s flying fingers. “Okay, fair enough, but— _no,_ that’s not why! I just don’t want to! Look, he—” and here they pause, turning back around to glance at you before dropping their voice to a whisper.

You do your best to refrain from overhearing. After all, your mother raised you to be polite.

Finally, Chara heaves an exasperated, “Okay, _fine!”_ and turns back around.

“Frisk says I have to explain myself to you,” they say, sounding irritable. “So that you don’t get the wrong impression of me, apparently.”

“Um. Okay,” you say.

Chara sighs once more, rolling their eyes to the ceiling in what you’re pretty sure is the single most theatrical expression of annoyance that you’ve ever seen. You wonder whatever happened to the dignity from before. Is that something they can only achieve as a dragon?

“I only attacked that village for Frisk,” they say, seemingly with considerable effort. “Their family was no good, and we already knew each other, so I saved them.”

“No good?” you repeat, confused.

Chara’s expression turns grim, and Frisk once again emerges from behind them.

With a sad little smile, they stick out their tongue.

You can’t help it; you shout.

Your hands fly to your mouth just too late to silence it. But judging from their faces, it was the reaction they were both anticipating, and so you do your best to still your pounding heart so that you can instead process what they’re showing you. 

The thing is split from the tip to the root. Just the sight of it makes your stomach clench in dread. It’s thickly scarred, meaning that it must have been a while since it happened, but you feel your very soul grow cold when you imagine just how much pain they must have suffered through.

“I told you,” Chara says as Frisk retracts their mutilated tongue. “They deserved it.”

“You said that you only attacked certain people,” you say when you can find your voice again. “Are they—”

“Yes, they are,” Chara answers curtly. “I attacked them and they’re dead. I left everybody else alone. And if you’ve decided that that makes me evil, then you can—”

“Good,” you interrupt. Chara falls silent, eyes widening, but you don’t care. You don’t care if they’re surprised, or if that wasn’t a princely thing to say, or if you’re letting down your parents by not preaching mercy and compassion. “People who would do that don’t deserve to live. I hope you made them suffer.”

They don’t reply immediately. Their eyes are still enormous from apparent shock.

But then they smile, baring all their teeth.

“I’m glad that we agree,” Chara says, and for some reason, you find yourself smiling back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Do they live here?” you ask Chara when you’re sitting at their dining table later. You’re helping yourself to what remains of your rations while Chara eats something that looks as though it was once alive. Meanwhile, Frisk is playing with an enormous globe sitting by the wall, apparently insistent that the two of you be free to talk alone together.

“For now, yes,” Chara replies. “But they shouldn’t stay. They’ve always been far more social than I. A life atop a lonely mountain with only me for company would be no good for them. I’ve been helping them search for alternatives, but no luck yet.”

“How did you two even meet?”

“We come from the same village,” they explain, and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. You’d been assuming they were ancient, at least a couple centuries old—aren’t dragons _always_ old?—but Frisk can’t be much older than you. If they come from the same village, then does that mean Chara’s the same age? “I couldn’t stay for very long, though. Supposedly my family line is the result of an _accident_ between a human and a monster, you see, and I could never fully pass as either. My parents could, because they didn’t have magic to worry about, but as for me…well, they called me an abomination.”

Anger, red-hot and blinding, far hotter and more sudden than you can justify. But you can’t seethe for very long, as Chara is still talking, apparently oblivious to your sudden rage.

“I left as soon as I could, of course. I considered going to the monster kingdom, but I wasn’t sure that I’d be welcome there either,” they continue with a wry smile. “So I settled down here, in-between, erecting the barrier to protect myself. I still went to visit Frisk sometimes, though, and when I saw them like that a few weeks ago…well, you know what happened.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” you ask, curious. “I mean, I appreciate knowing the details, but isn’t it hard for you to talk about such things?”

Chara laughs. “It’s funny, isn’t it? Normally it would be, but I feel comfortable with you for some reason. Maybe because we’re alike.”

“I don’t see how we’re alike,” you say with a frown, staring down at the bread in your hands. You’d never _kill_ somebody in the name of justice. Would you?

Well…maybe under certain circumstances. Maybe to protect someone you care about. You could see yourself lashing out _then,_ perhaps.  

That’s not the way that you’re supposed to be, though. You need to be _better_ than this, you think viciously, tearing the slice of bread in half.

“It’s hard to explain,” Chara says thoughtfully, apparently unfazed by your assault on the bread. They lean forward, setting their elbows on the table, resting their chin on their hands as they watch you eat. “You climbed the mountain with a sword, and yet you didn’t even try to fight me. And when I told you that I’d killed people, you didn’t seem remotely horrified. In fact, when I told you why I did it, you seemed rather passionately in favour of my choice.”

“You seem to be implying an awful lot about me based on about fifteen minutes of conversation,” you say dryly, and Chara laughs yet again. It’s not a mocking laugh, however, and you feel no hint of the instinctive flash of shame that so often crops up when others laugh near you.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” they say. “My point is—it’s pleasant, to have someone not be totally repulsed by what I am. A normal monster would’ve been disturbed by the extreme measures I had taken, and a human wouldn’t have even _thought_ to try and speak with me. But you’re different.”

“Humans wouldn’t be disturbed?” you ask with a frown. “I mean…I still think you were justified, but shouldn’t they care more about others killing their own kind?”

“Humans kill each other in the name of righteousness all the time,” Chara answers calmly. “The only reason they wanted me dead is because they don’t consider me one of them. Therefore, I cannot possibly have been in the right and I deserved to be executed without trial. They sent you here with a sword, remember?”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t use it,” you reply for lack of anything more intelligent to say. All you can think is that you don’t want to be that way, so callous and dismissive, so willing to cut down another for being dissimilar to you.

“So am I,” Chara says cheerfully. “You’d have broken it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

You wind up staying with Chara far longer than you mean to. The hours seem to fly by, until suddenly moonlight is streaming into the cave and grabbing your attention.

“I should go,” you say, setting down the book Chara had been showing you; a bestiary with a description of dragons that they’d found downright hilarious.

“You shouldn’t,” they immediately shoot back. “I’ve kidnapped you. Dragons do that, don’t they? Kidnap princes and princesses?”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not be kidnapped right now,” you say. “I’m only visiting this kingdom temporarily. I’ll have to go home eventually.”

“Oh,” Chara says with a frown. “I guess you ought to be heading back then.”

They bid farewell to Frisk, and you do the same, not wanting to appear impolite. For some reason, Frisk winks at you before shooing you outside the cave, where Chara is once again transforming.

The magnificence of their dragon form is not diminished even slightly despite your newfound knowledge of what they’re really like, and so you find yourself hesitating before you climb onto their back. It feels taboo, somehow, that one as clumsy as yourself should presume to ride so majestic a creature, but then they growl, “What are you _waiting_ for?” and your hesitation fades.

It’s not the first time that you’ve flown. Plenty of monsters have wings, and it _is_ one of the quickest ways of travelling. But it’s the first time that you’ve flown atop a dragon, especially a dragon that you think you maybe sort of possibly kind of like a little, and so you have to concentrate very, very hard on not blushing as Chara takes you to the outskirts of the human capital.

They descend in a clearing quite some ways away from the palace so as not to cause a fuss. They retain their dragon shape even after they land, and when you turn to thank them, you’re temporarily struck dumb by just how beautiful they are. You try and force yourself to remember what else they can look like—a strange, scrawny little human with sharp red eyes and an even sharper smile—but for reasons that you don’t care to think about, doing so doesn’t seem to help that much.

You were definitely alone on that mountain too long.

“Thank you,” you manage to say at last.

Chara chuckles. “For destroying part of a village or for stealing your sword?” they ask.

“Um,” you say. Your face once again turns hot. “For not eating me, I suppose?”

“It might be a bit too soon to thank me for that,” they reply with another chuckle. “Maybe the next time we meet, I won’t be able to resist. You’re so soft…I bet you taste delicious.”

“ _Will_ we meet again?” you ask, doing your best to ignore the way they said that. For some stupid reason, your heart is pounding. You wish you knew why; you know perfectly well they’re teasing you, that nothing they’re saying is worth getting het up over. 

“Of course we will,” Chara says with a swish of their tail. “I haven’t yet repaid you for the sword you gave me. I told you already, I don’t like to be beholden to others. I’ll find you again soon enough, Your Highness.”

They don’t wait for a reply before once again taking off into the night, and then you are alone, left to watch as Chara disappears among the stars.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

The knights who had abandoned you seem shocked to see you alive and well, but you decide to be charitable. It’s not like you know the details of Chara’s barrier—perhaps the knights had had no choice _but_ to leave, even before you’d actually reached it. Either way, you decide to let them pretend that that was the case. The whole affair had been too clumsily handled to have been a botched assassination attempt, and you’re not about to write your parents and inform them that relations between humans and monsters have collapsed over something so ultimately trivial.  

If it had been up to you, you would’ve let the matter go completely. The incident had ended well enough, in your opinion, and you have no desire to endure the human court’s self-flagellation. All you want to do is get the visit over with and go _home._ You’ve always found official business tedious, only putting up with it because you can’t bear the thought of disappointing anybody’s expectations.

At least the dragon incident turned out to be interesting in the end, not merely dull or terrifying, the way so many of your other princely duties do. But the humans seem to want to do their best to spoil that; you can’t imagine any _other_ reason why they’d want to host a dinner in your honour, at any rate.

Supposedly it’s to celebrate your heroism, but as you’re getting dressed, you can’t help but feel as though you’re being punished instead.

To try and take your mind off things, you begin mentally composing your next letter home. You’ll have to tell your parents about Chara, you think as you button up your black velvet waistcoat. How would you describe them? _Adorable_ would not be appropriate, you remind yourself as you drag on your gloves. Chara themself would likely hate it, and you don’t think many people would agree that dragons can be cute, regardless of how charming you’d found this one. You should stick to the facts. A dragon with a sense of justice, a dragon with a sense of honour, a dragon who’s magnificent in flight, a dragon who…

Perhaps it’s because your thoughts are already so occupied by them that you don’t immediately respond to the sight of Chara sitting perched upon the railing of your balcony. But then the reality of their smirk hits you, and you leap to your feet with a startled yelp.

“What are you— _how_ did you—” you stutter as you stride towards the balcony, and Chara yawns, obviously posturing.

They’re dressed in normal clothing now, you realize, not in the robe of smoke they'd made for themselves before. A tunic and leggings, complete with a pair of stout boots, all in shades of red and brown. Aside from their eyes, they look almost completely human. Had you seen them on the street, you’d not have batted an eye.

“I flew, of course,” they say. “And I came to repay you. Fr— _I_ found something you might appreciate.”

You don’t have to ask what they’re talking about. Almost eagerly, they extend their hand, uncurling their fingers to reveal a golden necklace. It’s a masterpiece of intricate shapes and finely cut emeralds, with a chain that feels like silk between your fingers, and for a moment, you are speechless.

“I don’t have many jewels, but that one’s definitely the prettiest in my collection,” Chara crows as you ogle it. “I know royalty likes shiny things, and you _are_ going to one of those fancy human dress-up parties tonight, so I thought—”

“How did you know that?” you ask.

Flushing, they retort, “Look, this _is_ my homeland, and I _do_ hoard knowledge. If I want to keep an eye on the boy who came to bother me, then I have that right.”

“It’s all right,” you say before you can stop yourself. “I don’t mind.”

Chara recoils, leaning so far back that you briefly worry they’ll go tumbling over the edge. Their flush deepens, and then scowling, they say, “Well, _good,_ because it’s not like I’d stop just because you wanted me to. I have to make sure you’re not getting up to any funny business with that title of yours, _prince of monsters.”_

They’re very pointedly not looking at you. You take the opportunity to hold up the necklace and examine it properly. It’s designed to resemble a chain of flowers, with the emeralds linking them as leaves. The flowers almost look like the golden ones back home, a touch that makes your heart ache.

Still…

“I can’t accept this,” you say, returning it to them.

 _“What?”_ Chara practically shrieks. “But Frisk said—I mean, _why?”_

“It’s too much,” you say, dropping your gaze to the floor. You don’t think you can look at them right now; it’s only the second time you’ve met, and already you feel as though your face would give away too much. “I could never wear it. And besides, the sword I gave you couldn’t possibly be worth _this_ much.”

A low growl emerges from their throat, and Chara snaps, “Well, perhaps my _next_ attempt will be more to the prince’s liking.”

“You really don’t have to do this at all, you know,” you say helplessly. “It’s fine, I don’t…”

“I _do,”_ Chara snarls, and you fall silent, somehow cowed despite how small they are. “I _do_ and I _will.”_

They close their fist; the necklace vanishes.

Chara shifts as though preparing to leap off of the balcony, but then they hesitate, glancing back at you. You almost curl away from their apparent scrutiny.

“You’re dressed like a human,” they say at last,

“Um. Yes,” you reply, glancing down at the suit you’re wearing, one likely chosen to mask as many of your more bestial traits as possible. “I am.” _So are you,_ you think with some annoyance, but you don’t vocalize this thought. There’s nothing to be gained from irritating them, you remind yourself.

“Why?” they ask curtly, and your throat tightens.

“I’m here to foster the alliance between our kingdoms,” you explain, but your voice is feeble. You feel like a child trying to explain themselves to a disappointed parent. “It helps put them at ease to see me like this.”

“Is it something that you _want_ to do?”

“It’s expected of me,” you say with a helpless shrug.

Chara still doesn’t leave. Their gaze is unsettlingly intense. You feel as though you can’t move away, not as long as they’re looking at you like that.

“Well, you do it better than they do,” they say at last.

And with that enigmatic statement, they’re gone, leaving you standing alone on the balcony as something unfamiliar continues to swell within your chest.

 

 

* * *

 

 

That night at dinner, you’re asked to regale those present with the story of your triumph over the dragon. You’re as truthful as you can be, and the distinct lack of bloodshed in your tale appears to disappoint some listeners, but you don’t let your smile falter.

“That is the way of monsters,” you say. “We’re a compassionate people and seek peaceful resolutions whenever possible.”

You keep yourself as placid as you can, not allowing your smile to fade despite the itch you feel beneath your skin. You wonder when you’ll see Chara again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You estimate Chara’s return taking a couple of days at least. You’re not prepared for them to appear before you the morning after the dinner, least of all in the secluded tower library that you’d specifically selected for how out-of-the-way it is. One moment you’re composing your next letter home, and the next, you’re jumping in surprise when you catch sight of Chara cradling a small flame in the palm of their hand.

“Not in the _library!”_ you cry, and with a pout, Chara snuffs the flame.

“You’re no fun,” they say, swinging their legs from their perch atop the desk. “As if I would ever seriously endanger books.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask when your heart has finally stopped racing from mingled pleasure and surprise at seeing them again so soon.

Chara’s mouth curls into a satisfied grin. “I’ve brought you a new gift,” they say. “This one’s _far_ better than the last one.”

They slam something down upon the table with so much force it rattles.  

It’s a rock.

“It’s a rock,” you say.

“Yes, it certainly is,” Chara confirms, almost preening. “The jewels from yesterday were too much, of course, so here is something humbler, but still worthy of Your Highness. It’s the finest rock I have, you know.”

You can’t deny that the rock is fine. It’s large and smooth and white and almost seems to sparkle in the light. But the fact remains that it’s a rock, and you have no idea what you’re meant to _do_ with it. It’s not as though you’re a dragon yourself, one who hoards things simply for the sake of _having._

You wonder if you ought to smile and accept it anyway, even if you don’t know what it’s for. That should please Chara, shouldn’t it?

But…

“No,” you say, carefully setting the rock down on the table once again. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

You’ve spent your entire life doing whatever’s necessary to keep the peace, smiling and playing nice and seeing to your duty as a prince, regardless of whatever you yourself want. There’s a curious thrill to be had in saying _no,_ especially when you see the way Chara’s face contorts in fury afterwards, even if you know that it’s a thrill you won’t always be able to indulge in.

 _“No?!”_ they splutter. “But it’s so beautiful! How is this no good?”

Your mind races for a suitable response. You can’t say _if I accept your gift, then you might not come and see me anymore._ You haven’t known each other long enough for you to be so bold, and you barely understand your own desire to have them think of you and seek you out. If you’re to try and vocalize it, then Chara might panic and run off, never to return, and you don’t think that you can bear that.

Finally you say, “I already have so many. My room back home is _full_ of rocks. I don’t know what I’d do with another one, as lovely as it is.”

“Oh.” Chara frowns, but they cross their arms and give a curt nod of understanding, apparently willing to accept your ludicrous explanation. “Yes, I see. No matter. I’ll think of something else.”

They take back the rock, examining it with a frown, and you realize that you’re smiling. They’re wearing such a thoughtful expression as they survey it that you can’t help but find it sweet.

They say they hoard knowledge, you think—is this what they look like when they read?

You think you’d like to watch them read sometime.

If you’re being honest, then this entire trip has been a miserable experience so far, but this—whatever _this_ may be—just might be making up for it.

As you rest your cheek upon your palm, watching Chara turn over the rock again and again, you sigh. When you do, they lift their head, staring at you.

“Well,” they say, a little stiffly perhaps. “I suppose I should be going. I need to find a better gift, after all.”

“You like to read, don’t you?” you ask, and their face immediately brightens. “You said you’d never endanger books, and you had a lot back in your…” You trail off.

“Cave?” Chara finishes for you, grinning almost cheekily. “It’s all right, you can say it. Just so long as you acknowledge that it’s a very _nice_ cave.”

They take a seat, slipping off of the desk and into the chair across from you, and just like that, you can almost believe that this is something that was meant to be, no matter how far away from home you are in this unfamiliar land.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 _I met a dragon,_ you write later that night in your fifteenth draft of your next letter home. _They’re not what I expected. They’re not boring at all._ _If everything goes well, I might_ —

You stop. You scratch out that final sentence, crumple up the page, and you begin again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not as though you suddenly become particularly fond of solitude. It’s just that—well, you _know_ Chara’s feelings about humans. It’s not hard for you to deduce that the reason they only appear whenever you’re alone is because they’re intentionally avoiding others.

After that afternoon in the library (it only occurs to you later to wonder how Chara made it past the guards in the first place), you go out of your way to create opportunities for them to show their face again, slipping away whenever possible to give them a chance to work whatever magic allows them to find you so easily.  

It’s for this reason that you find yourself wandering the palace gardens alone, trying to admire the vivid colours of the gloxinia as you wait for Chara to appear.

The gardens feel as though they were designed specifically with illicit encounters in mind, you think with something like a blush. You wonder just how many times this fountain has been used by lovers as a meeting spot; it’s exactly like something out of a romance novel.

Not that you would know what _those_ are like.

Finally, you catch sight of them. They’re reclining on a bench that overlooks an ornamental pond, looking carefully relaxed. But the corners of their mouth twitch as you approach, betraying just how much attention they were paying to you, and you find yourself smiling as well.

“Chara,” you say, unable to mask the happiness in your voice. “It’s you!”

“Yes, it’s me,” they say, turning to you. They’re well and truly smiling now. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yes,” you answer automatically, and they lower their gaze, cheeks colouring.

“You don’t have to be so _honest_ all the time _,”_ Chara grumbles, and you laugh as you drop onto the bench beside them.

“I’m happy to see you,” you say, because if you’re going to be honest, then you might as well go all-out so that you can properly enjoy the way they blush and squirm. It’s not behaviour one would normally associate with dragons, but that just makes it cuter, especially when you try and imagine what the draconic equivalent would be. If you were to compliment them while they were still transformed, what exactly would they do?

You’re willing to bet that it would involve acres of scorched land, but it might still be worth trying out.

“Of course you’re happy to see me,” Chara says when they’re apparently done staring at the hands that they have folded on their lap. “Who _wouldn’t_ be excited for a gift from a dragon? We have exquisite taste, you know. We only choose the finest. You’re in an enviable position of privilege right now.”

“Well, yeah,” you say, keeping your eyes focused on the water. You’re not sure what you’ll do if you accidentally make eye contact now; stutter to a halt, most likely. “But I also like seeing _you._ You’ve been the most interesting part of my time here.”

Chara’s quiet for so long that you wonder if you’ve somehow offended them, even though you can’t imagine how. But before you can apologize for whatever you said wrong, they place something in your lap.

It’s an apple, smooth and round and red. The cleanest-looking apple that you’ve ever seen, like an illustration of the fruit rather than the fruit itself.

“That’s today’s gift,” Chara says with a smile, adding, “Straight from the king’s private garden.”

 _“Chara!”_ you cry. “You can’t steal from the _king!”_

“Do you expect me to put it back?” they ask, quirking an eyebrow. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s not an easy thing to do, even with magic.”

You should really be more scandalized, you think. But instead, you begin to laugh, and then you take the apple and split it neatly in half. Holding one half out to Chara, you say, “I’ll only accept it if you try some too. I won’t be the only one caught stealing from the king.”

Despite having been the one to bring the fruit, Chara accepts their half warily, as though afraid you might have somehow poisoned it. Still, their eyes light up upon taking their first bite.

“It’s good,” they say, sounding surprised. They wipe the juice from their chin with their finger, then lick the finger in question. “I thought the king’s gardens were off limits because he’s selfish and wanted to guarantee his own supply, but could he possibly have the best fruit in the land after all?”

“Some people say that sharing food is what really makes a difference in flavour,” you say as you take a bite yourself. “I’m not sure _who,_ exactly, but…people. Maybe it’s so good because we’re splitting it?”

The bite is crisp and tart and juicy; the perfect apple. Maybe you can find a way to bring some home with you. Your mother loves to bake—she’d probably appreciate having such tasty apples to make pie with. If you were to ask the king yourself, he’d probably be willing, especially If you let him believe that your ultimate opinion of his court depended on it.

“Asriel,” Chara says, and when you look their way, you can see that they’re holding out a piece of apple.

“Uh,” you say.

“We need to see if sharing really makes a difference,” they say. “Open up.”

Their cheeks are red, their lips pursed together in a thin line, but they still don’t look away, despite how embarrassed they must surely be. It’s like a challenge. Are you _really_ going to be the one to back down first?

No. No you aren’t.

You don’t wait for them to feed you by hand, the way they seem to want you to. Instead, you catch their wrist and bring their hand to your mouth, wrapping your lips around their finger as you do so. Chara’s face colours immediately, and you’re certain that your own face must be doing the same thing, but that can’t possibly matter at a time like this.

You let your tongue swipe across the tip, carefully, carefully, only a tentative taste. Chara’s mouth is trembling, but they make no move to pull away, and you sit like that for a long, breathless moment.

(It would likely seem ridiculous to anyone observing you, but fortunately, you’re alone right now and can be as ridiculous as you like.)

Finally, their hand withdraws and you swallow the bite of apple they’d initially presented you with.

“Tastes good,” you say with a smile, and Chara scowls.  

“I bet you think you’re really clever,” they reply, and they lift what remains of their half of the apple to their mouth, taking a large, noisy bite. Their lips smack as they chew.

“Not particularly,” you confess. “I just know what I like.”

“So you like apples, then,” Chara says, and they drop the core onto the grass beside the bench. You swallow back a comment about how they shouldn’t be so messy; scolding them wouldn’t suit the mood at all, whatever mood that is. “What did you think of this one? Was the king’s fruit a fitting payment for the sword?”

“Hmm,” you hum, returning your gaze to the pond. You can see the tip of your reflection in the water; you almost want to stand and move closer to the edge so that you can see the mirrored Chara better, but that would be foolish. You have the real thing right beside you. “It was delicious, but…it’s gone now, isn’t it? And you _did_ take half. So I got half an apple, and you still have the sword. That doesn’t seem fair.”

You sneak a glance at Chara. Maybe you’re imagining it—maybe you’re getting your hopes up like an idiot—but they seem almost pleased by your response.

“That’s unfortunate,” they say. “I’ll just have to try again, then. By the way, while I’m thinking of what to do next, you should walk with me through the gardens. I’ve never been on castle grounds before.”

“What about all those times you’ve snuck in?” you ask, standing and extending your hand.

Chara takes it. “I flew, dummy,” they say, not letting go even after they’ve pulled themselves upright. “This will be my first time walking. I intend to enjoy it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

You manage to steal away an entire hour together—an hour in which Chara names for you all of the flowers you have never noticed, an hour in which you make fun of all the human statues that you can’t be bothered to keep track of, an hour in which their hand never once leaves your own.

It’s a pleasant hour.

“This is nice, but the garden back home is even nicer,” you say as you overlook a bed of red and yellow tulips. “My father tends to it himself, and he likes letting it run wild sometimes. There are entire meadows full of wildflowers. Maybe someday you can…”

You trail off. Chara’s hand grips yours even tighter.

“I’m sure I’ll see it someday,” they answer blithely before tugging you along the path, having apparently forgotten which one of you is meant to be giving the tour. “I can go wherever I want, after all.”

But you don’t want it to be _maybe_ and _I’m sure._ You want it to be _yes_ and _I will._

Still, you don’t get a chance to ask the question that’s been nagging at you, because one wrong turn later, you’re standing before a guard making the rounds. A second later, Chara’s gone, and then it’s like they were never there at all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They continue bringing gifts, always finding you at least once a day with some new curiosity. A coin, a tiny skull, a magical grimoire. Always, always, you find an excuse to turn it down. Always, always, Chara seems almost pleased to have an excuse to continue hounding you.  

The game continues happily. But even so, you find yourself thinking more and more of the day that it must end.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You spend the entirety of your final day anxiously awaiting Chara—not because you’re particularly looking forward to whatever gift they’ll have for you this time, but because you’ve waited long enough to ask. Your time with them has always been limited, and you can’t possibly put off asking any longer, not when you’ll be leaving soon and may never have another chance.

But they never come.

You almost wonder if it might be your fault. You spend the day enduring long, boring, formal farewells, unable to escape long enough for Chara to appear without being seen. You privately curse yourself for failing them like this; they never _asked_ you to find a way for the two of you to be alone together, never in as many words, but it still felt like your duty, your role in the game.

When you’re preparing for bed that night, you try and tell yourself that there’s still time. You may be departing tomorrow, but Chara could still theoretically meet you for goodbyes before then. Maybe they’ll forego their fear of humans long enough to see you. Anything is possible, isn’t it?

Your throat aches, and you swallow, hard. Stupid, really, to be on the verge of tears for a person you can’t reasonably be said to know.

Suddenly: a sound.

You sit upright.

Something moves outside the window, something large. By the time Chara is lightly touching down upon the balcony, you’re on your feet and running out to meet them.

“Chara!” you cry. “You’re here!”

Although you’d been close to crying mere moments ago, you can only smile now. Regardless of what happens, they’re here, they came to see you, and that means they care for you at least a _little,_ doesn’t it?

For once, Chara doesn’t smile back. Their expression is one of the utmost concentration instead, and they say, “Asriel, come with me.”

“Come with you?” you repeat, stopping in your tracks. “Where are we going?”

“It doesn’t matter,” they reply. “Just come with me. I want to take you flying, and not just down a mountain.”

It wouldn’t have mattered _what_ their request was. You couldn’t possibly have said no.

You slip out over the balcony and down the castle wall, clinging to vines and weatherworn stone. Fortunately, your room is only two stories high, and so the final drop down onto the lawn isn’t particularly painful.  

Once you’re standing, Chara extends their hand to you. You take it, and then they set off running, dragging you along with them.

You seem to be invisible tonight, although you can’t say whether that’s the work of Chara’s magic or sheer dumb luck. Together, you cut across the palace grounds, through flower-beds and tree-lined paths, until finally you reach the clearing they had first descended in, back on the day that you’d first met.

Chara’s transformation is just as you remember, even though it’s been a while since you’ve seen it. A rippling and surging, a breaking apart and a reshaping, until the Chara with the chuckle and the knowing smirk is gone, and there before you stands the ruby-scaled dragon with the blazing eyes instead.

You’re still struck by how graceful their movements are. In a sleek, calculated motion, they bow, flattening their wings as low as they can go, positioning themselves so that you can climb gingerly on top, wrapping your arms around their neck. It still feels almost taboo, that you should climb atop something so lovely, but you force yourself to remember that this is still just Chara, regardless of how intimidating they may look.

“Are you ready?” they ask in their unearthly rumble of a voice.

You nod, too nervous to recall that they won’t see you. But you guess they somehow sense it anyway—or perhaps they just don’t care to know your true reply—and the next thing you know, their powerful wings are grabbing the air and the two of you are airborne. 

The wind sings all around you as you fly. You watch the land passing beneath you, clinging to Chara’s neck as tightly as you can. You know somehow that they won’t let you fall, but they’re warmer than a hearth and you want to be as close as possible in this cool night air.

You tip back your head, hoping to see the stars, but you have no chance of making out the constellations; you’re flying too fast. And yet there’s something beautiful about that as well.

The night sky seems to go on forever, and Chara’s plunging into it headfirst, taking you with them higher than you’d ever dreamed of going, higher and higher and higher—until finally, they come to a gentle stop, landing with surprising lightness on a cliff.

You practically tumble off their back as Chara changes yet again behind you. You stand up immediately anyway, rubbing your arms as you do so. Without Chara’s warmth, the night has become uncomfortably cold, but then Chara takes your arm and they’re leading you away.

You follow them without a thought, thinking only of chasing their flame.

As you approach the edge, you finally recognize where you’ve landed; it’s their mountain, just outside the mouth of their cave.

“Sit,” Chara says, and you sit, because what else can you do?

They sit down as well, so close to you that you’re almost touching. A heartbeat of silence passes over you before they ask, “What did you think of flying?”

“I’ve flown before,” you answer honestly. “But not like that. That was…wonderful.”

“I’m glad,” Chara replies, but they don’t look at you. They’re looking at the stars instead, and although you feel as though you ought to be doing the same—why _else_ would they have brought you here at night?—you keep your eyes on them and their silver-dusted skin.

You wonder—does it matter what stars your sitting under? Would they still look the same, even in a different country? Would it still _feel_ the same to be alone with them?  

“Asriel,” they say at the same time as you say “Chara.”

You both pause, and laugh, and then you say, “You first.”

Chara bows their head. They have their knees pulled up against their chest. It makes them look even smaller than they already are. It makes you want to wrap your arms around their shoulders and hold them close, as close as they would let you, even though you know perfectly well that there’s no need. You’ve seen firsthand how ferocious they can be despite their size, especially when they feel cornered; it’s how the two of you first met, after all.

Still, you like the thought that they might let you.

“Asriel,” Chara says at last. “I don’t…suppose you would ever consider staying here? With me? I know it’s not much, but…well.”

For a single wild moment, you allow yourself to imagine it. Running away from home to be with Chara, living with them and Frisk stop their mountain, telling jokes and sharing tales and never having to explain yourself when you disappoint somebody. You wouldn’t need anybody else; you’d be perfectly satisfied with just each other.

Your heart sinks.

Judging from their rueful smile, Chara’s expecting your response even before you open your mouth to give it.

“I…can’t,” you say. Your voice almost cracks on that one word. “I came here for diplomatic reasons. All of that would be lost if I never went home. I…I have responsibilities, you know? And my parents…”

Chara nods, slowly. “I knew that you would that, but it was worth a shot,” they say with a shrug, a show of _see how much I care,_ and they give a short laugh that has no joy in it. “I guess this is it, then.”

You wonder if you’ve misheard them. But despite your patient silence, no explanation comes, and finally you ask, _“It?”_

“You’re going home tomorrow, aren’t you?” Chara says, still in that careless way of theirs, as though trying to convince someone that it doesn’t matter either way. “So this is it. This is where we say goodbye, so that the prince may return to his—”

“Will you come with me?” you interrupt.

Chara’s head snaps around, red eyes locking on yours.

Their expression is initially one of pure shock, but then it splits into a cold, hollow grin.

“You can’t mean that,” Chara says tersely, still smiling so tightly that it looks as though their face may crack. “You _can’t._ You’re the _prince!_ It was fun playing with you, Asriel, but I’m an abomination, remember? You can’t possibly want to bring me home—your family would hate me.”

“They wouldn’t,” you say automatically. “I wouldn’t let them.”

“That doesn’t _matter!_ What reason do I have to think that living among monsters would be any better than living among humans?” they demand.

“You don’t know anything _about_ them! Maybe it’ll be _completely_ different!” you plead, and Chara recoils as though slapped. Too late, you remember that they hoard knowledge; accusations of ignorance may just be the worst insult of all. 

You decide to change tactics. 

“What about me?” you ask in your most wheedling tone. “Has it been horrible with me?

“You’re an exception!” Chara snaps. “You…you’re _strange._ You’ve never cared about who or what I was, but I _know_ how much you struggle to fit in with other monsters. I can _see_ it. All you ever do is fret about what others think. If _you_ can barely manage it, no matter how hard you try, then what hope is there for me?”

“I only fret because…well, because the royal family is meant to be the ideal the rest aspire to, so our image is important. But that’s all it is, I swear!” you cry. “There are all _kinds_ of monsters and all kinds of ways of living, so I’m sure that nobody would judge you—I’m sure that you’ll be able to find _something_ better than this, if you’re just willing to try!”

Chara gives a snort of disbelief, shaking their head, and you swallow.

“I know that you probably have trouble trusting me,” you continue. “I mean, why would you? But…I really don’t think they’d find you strange at all, Chara, especially if I was there to vouch for you. I…I think my parents might love you, actually. My father would be happy to show you the garden, and…and I think my mother would _adore_ how eager you are to learn.”

 _(They would love you because I love you_ , you think, but despite everything, you’re not sure if you can take that step just yet.)

The silences that follows stretches on for an eternity. Finally, you hesitantly reach out to them, placing your hand over theirs. As always, Chara’s skin is hot to the touch, as though fire itself runs through their veins, but they still don’t look at you, keeping their gaze turned towards the stars.

“Don’t answer based on worry,” you beg. “Answer based on what you _want._ You don’t have to live in the palace, or even move at all if you don’t want to, but…I’d like to keep getting to know you, if that’s okay. So will you visit me, at least? Is that all right to ask? For you to keep on finding me?”

“Asriel—”

“You’ve done a pretty good job of it so far,” you add with a tiny smile.

“You’re the one who found me in the first place,” Chara points out almost playfully, but they then sigh, shifting their hand to lace their fingers with yours. The moonlight is still falling on their hair, still making their skin glow, and you can’t help but think that they look beautiful, even without their scales and size to hide behind, leaving only what’s vulnerable and raw.

“I don’t know what I want,” they mutter at last, fingers tightening. “I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. I focus all my energy on learning, and yet I barely understand myself. What _is_ this? What if I’m doing all this wrong? I don’t want to make it real, not if it’s just a mistake.”

“I’d rather risk things becoming too real than say goodbye to them forever,” you answer evenly. “If there’s a chance, no matter how slim, then I want to take it.”

And Chara rolls their eyes, knocking their shoulder against yours. “How can you be so stupidly _hopeful_ all the time?” they ask in mock-disgust. “How have you not given up on me yet? You’re making me feel downright ashamed of myself.”

“It’s just how I am,” you reply a shrug. “My job is to be the kingdom’s future. How can I do that without hope?”

Chara sighs yet again, giving a long, gentle exhale of breath.

You stare at them expectantly, still awaiting their reply—not daring to hope for the best, but unwilling to expect the worst.

And the suddenly, their eyes snap open.

“Look, I’m not going to _say_ it,” Chara snarls. “I’m not going to say, _yes, I want to stay with you, yes, I want to keep you, yes, I want to_ — _”_

“You’re saying it right now,” you point out, and a strangled sound erupts from Chara’s throat, somewhere between a bark of laughter and a sob.  

“You really _are_ an idiot,” they say with a watery smile. “But fine—I will.”

The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you can’t hear anything but the sound of your heart pounding like a drum.

Gradually, Chara’s voice returns to you.

“…won’t go with you immediately,” they’re saying. “I have to make preparations. I…I wasn’t expecting something like this. But…my hoard is knowledge, not _things,_ so I mean…that’s transportable enough. I’m not particularly attached to most of my belongings, after all, so…moving shouldn’t be impossible.”

“No, it _shouldn’t_ be!” you shout, barely able to contain the tidal wave of your excitement. “There’s…there’s even a mountain near the castle, and nobody ever goes up there, so it’ll be perfect for you, if you still want to live on a mountain! And…and Frisk can come live in the palace if they want to, as an ambassador! I can talk to my parents and figure it out, and they’d get the _nicest_ accommodations, and…”

“Asriel,” Chara says, looking alarmed despite their smile. “Please calm down, you’re starting to—”

You don’t hear the rest of their sentence. You can’t be bothered to listen. You’re too busy throwing yourself forward and seizing Chara’s hands. They shriek in surprise, but you don’t let go, you _can’t_ let go, you need to kiss their fingers and press them against your cheeks as you laugh and laugh and laug, because they’re _coming,_ they’re _coming,_ the only person you have ever truly let yourself begin to care about is _coming,_ and then Chara’s laughing as well, and somewhere in the middle of it all, you manage to coordinate yourselves well enough to press your lips together.

It’s a clumsy, reckless sort of kiss, but your cheeks are wet and Chara’s cheeks are too and then your tears are mingling and that’s all that really matters.

When you break away, the two of you are still laughing. You caress their damp face with your paw, not wanting to let go of them just yet, and Chara smiles as they do the same, the brightest smile that you’ve seen from them so far.

“This is the only method of repayment I’ll accept now,” you say.  

“Kissing?” Chara asks, looking amused. “If I’d known that, we could’ve been having a _lot_ more fun over these past few weeks.”

Then, more solemnly: “I really won’t be able to leave right away, though.”

“That’s okay,” you immediately reply. _Anything’s_ okay, just so long as they’ll be with you in the future.

“And it’s not like I’m going _for_ you,” they add, narrowing their eyes warningly. “I’m going because you’re right—I don’t know anything about monsters, so I should study them. I’ll need to get my affairs in order before I come, though. That’s why I need time.”

“Still, it’ll be soon,” you point out. “Maybe not straight away, but _soon.”_

“Soon,” Chara agrees, the corners of their mouth crooking upwards in a smile. “As soon as possible.”

“I’m glad,” you say, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard a lovelier word than _soon._ “I’m really, really glad.”

“Do I love you?” Chara asks, cocking their head inquisitively as they cup your face with both their hands, like you’re something to study. “Is that what this is? I like you a lot, and I want to keep seeing you, but I don’t know. I have no experience with this kind of thing.”

“We’ll have plenty time to figure it out,” you answer almost giddily. You don’t think you mind them studying you. “I don’t think it matters if it doesn’t quite make sense. And...for what it’s worth…I think I feel the same way, whatever it is.”

“Good,” Chara says with a firm nod. “I’m glad. I’d hate to be the only one who wants to keep on doing _this.”_

And then their mouth is finding yours again in yet another clumsy, eager kiss.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After you’ve returned to the palace and Chara has transformed once again, they catch you by the wrist and press something into your palm.

You unfold your fingers, and there in your hand lies a single bright-red scale.

“It’s mine, of course,” Chara says. You can’t see if they’re blushing in the dark, but they quickly look away, crossing their arms as though pouting, and you’re not sure whether to laugh or cry. You’ll be leaving them soon, but you’ll also be seeing them soon; you’ll have to say farewell, but not for long. “It’s…not good for much, I suppose, but it _is_ mine. I thought…it could serve as a promise. I’ll want it back, after all. It will be a way for me to find you, even if I can’t come to you immediately.”

The scale is shaped like a heart and warm to the touch. You almost think that you can feel it beating.

“I’ll cherish it,” you say.

Your lips meet for a final kiss. Only the third you’ve ever shared, but it already feels like the thousandth, and there will be a thousand more to come.

You don’t say goodbye. You’ve already said _soon._

 

 

* * *

 

 

As you’re leaving the next day, you look back once upon the mountain in the distance.

Maybe you’re imagining it, but even from this far away, you think you can see crimson.

Your fingers tighten around Chara’s scale, and you smile and move onwards.


End file.
